Long Road
by soloscribe
Summary: Jane's recovery isn't quick and easy, and she's never been comfortable with her weaknesses or accepting help. Rizzoli family drama is looming, and two people who care about Jane have a game plan.  Ch8 is up.  Please R&R. Running out of ideas on this one..
1. Chapter 1

"So beautiful," that scratchy voice cooed. "Aren't ya," he added with that all too familiar clip.

That intense, raw ache throbbed through her hands, and Jane blinked to see they were pinned again. White hot. Jane's mind skittered, unable to focus. _Pull them out… hurts so bad… don't move… move fast, get it over with…_

"Ja-ane," Hoyt leaned down, his face too close as he knelt over her. "I don't think you're listening." Fingers curled around her shirt, tugging it aside. "Show me the scar…Did you do this?" His finger tapped at the puckered scar, and he flashed that sickening grin. "It doesn't match your hands. Look, it's so messy…"

She shuddered, thoughts racing again, and she squirmed, trying to bite back a cry of pain as the blade pressed, searing against her gut. It was like fire, and she couldn't tell what hurt worse—hands or side—her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Her mind screamed in protest, but nothing would come out. No words. They utterly failed her, and she could see the insanity in his eyes and he pressed the blade more firmly against her. Into her.

"Crimson is such a lovely color. It looks good on you." A bit deeper, and she struggled to gasp, to make a sound—

"Ahhh," Jane jerked awake, twisted in her sheets, her struggling-to-heal injury aching painfully and making her gasp for air. Which hurt more. She was cold, sweat covering her body, but she was shivering, which made everything hurt even more. Fingers searched blindly for her injury, and she slid them back as the tender skin throbbed around the bullet wound.

Her fingers came away wet, and she hissed with pain as her other hand searched for her phone. _Gotta call… call… _ "Um… hey.. oh!"

"Janie?" the bedroom door opening startled her, and she let out a pained curse as she tried to shift on the bed. Frank Senior was at her side immediately, sitting on the side of the bed and trying to straighten out covers. "You okay?"

"I… no," she whispered, blinking as the hallway light flooded in. She tugged at her shirt, shivering again. "Cold… hurts…I dunno, feels wet."

"God, Janie, you're bleeding," Frank spoke up, gently pulling her shirt clear to look at the wound. "Busted stitches. Damn, it's all red."

She gasped and bit into her bottom lip in an effort not to cry out. "Call Maura," she answered through clenched teeth.

"Hang on," He disappeared from the room for a moment and returned with a cloth, pressing it gently against the exit wound. As he held it with one hand, the other dialed. "Dr. Isles… sorry- well it's… yeah, Jane. I don't know she's bleeding and hurt. Stitches came out, but it's all red around it… okay… yeah… okay."

Jane's nails dug into the pillow, burying her face as she struggled to breath slowly, to focus on that and not the pain. To keep her mind from going back to the nightmare.

Her father was talking to her like she was a little kid again, patting her shoulder as he held the cloth against her back. "Maura's on her way… it's okay, sweetheart, she's gonna come. She said she was on her way. Can I get you anything else?"

The brunette shook her head into the pillow, protesting weakly when her father coaxed the pillow away. He was making her eat some crackers and swallow another pill—it seemed like all she did was sleep and take medicine these days—but he was telling her that Maura said she needed to. That it would help with the pain. Time was getting hazy, and she didn't really care if it was the medicine or her fever.

"Jane? Jane," came a soft, insistent voice, and the detective blinked owlishly in even the dimmed light of her bedside light.

Expert hands gently rolled folded up the hem of the shirt and urged some folded towels against Jane as Frank helped support Jane. "Frank, drape those blankets around her, up to her waist, and then why don't you get the thermometer so we can see how high her fever is."

The cool hand to her forehead made Jane shiver harder, but she pressed against it, longing for the comfort of the touch and thinking her head hurt a little less. "Hey… can you talk to me a little?" Maura asked, her voice soft and coaxing as she pulled out her pen light and inspected the cuts and stitches.

"So cold, Maur," Jane whispered, "back hurts, too, where it tore."

"Mhmm," the medical examiner hummed in agreement. "Your father's right, you broke the sutures. Did you try to get up?"

"No," came the mumble, dark eyes closing as she grimaced when fingers barely skimmed over tender skin. "Bad dream," she whispered, falling silent again as her father returned.

Maura eased the thermometer into Jane's mouth and sent Frank off to make some tea and get some rest in the living room. "I'm staying the night. I'll be here tomorrow, too." She wisely didn't press Jane for any more details for the time being. As they waited for the thermometer, the medical examiner watched her friend flex her hands, the way she always did when they were aching. "Your hands hurt."

"Mmhmm. Aaaeee," came the replied, muffled by the thermometer.

"No talking," Maura reprimanded gently. She crossed to the closet and dug through the top shelf, finally fishing out a soft flannel scarf that she had bought Jane last February when the cold chill of Boston had wreaked havoc on her friend's hands. Gingerly she took one hand at a time and wrapped them in the warm material. When she finished, she pulled out the thermometer and peered at it. "One hundred point one."

Glassy dark eyes peered up meekly. "I feel like crap."

"I bet you do." The medical examiner reached for her bag and began rummaging through, pulling out supplies. "I need to clean out that wound … your father gave you the pain medicine before I got here?"

Mussed waves bobbed as Jane nodded. "Still hurts… little less, though." She tried to relax as Maura positioned some pillows to help support Jane as she urged her friend to roll a little more onto her stomach.

"Was it Hoyt again?"

"Yeah," her friend breathed, trying to bite back the hiss of pain as Maura began to rinse the wound with saline.

Her free hand rested on Jane's side, clear of the injury, reassuring. "I'm just cleaning everything out, to see what's going on in there… you have a pyogenic infection. How did you tear the stitches, Jane?"

The dark head shook slightly, fingers curling into the warm flannel. "I don't know… I was dreaming… and I woke up tangled in my blankets and I could tell it started bleeding," she answered into the bedding.

"I think when you were moving around in your sleep, it broke open a pocket of infection. Some of it's blood, but some of it's fluid."

"Pus?" Jane muttered, flexing her hands and wishing the pain medicine would kick in faster. It was putting a haze between her and the worst of the pain, but she still felt miserable.

"Yes," Maura replied evenly, dousing the wound again, making sure it rinsed to pure blood before she stopped. She selected a needle and the silken thread, preparing with practiced ease. "This is going to feel cold, but it will help deaden some of the pain." Using a cotton swab, she spread the analgesic cream. "I should send you to the hospital for this. The only reason I'm not is that Byron agreed to drop by tomorrow to check on you."

A noise of disapproval came, follow by a gasp as Maura quickly pieced the skin with the thin, curved needle. "Don't wanna see Sucky," Jane pouted. "Don't make me go back to the hospital… please, Maur. Smells funny and it's so cold there."

"Sssh, relax," her friend soothed, tying off a knot, doing her best to keep it small and neat. "You're not going tonight. I'm getting you patched, and then you're going to sleep. But if your fever goes up to 102, you're going back—No, Jane, I know you don't want to, but I'm not letting you go septic. It's a mess back here, and you were already running a fever earlier today." Maura finished the row, and spread on some ointment. "This is going to be cool, too, but I'm just cleaning up."

She went through several more cotton pads than she had meant to, but finally had Jane cleaned up. "Do you want help changing shirts? This one is…"

"Sweaty. Makin' me cold," came the groan before Jane submitted to help again. It was awkward and meant some tricky maneuvering and a few whimpers of pain before she was in a clean shirt and curled around the pillow again.

Maura tucked the covers close, adjusting the scarf, which had needed to be unwrapped and rewrapped as Jane changed. She held a cup of water close, making sure Jane drained at least half of it before she returned it to the nightstand. "The most important thing is to keep drinking water. It'll help cleanse out this infection. Did you eat dinner?"

"Little bit of rice and chicken broth," Jane answered, her voice thick, interrupting herself halfway through with a big yawn. "Don't make me go back to the hospital."

"Focus on feeling better. We'll get back to the hospital argument tomorrow if we have to," Maura replied, her voice calm but firm. "Do you think you can sleep if I stay here?"

She caught the small nod of the dark head as she turned out the night light. Jane gave a little sigh as she felt the bed shift slightly, no doubt Maura was stretching out on the empty side of the bed.

"Good. Wake me up if you feel worse. Or if you can't sleep… Or if the nightmare—just… wake me up, okay?" Maura felt the urgency welling up in her to protect Jane, hating that she couldn't protect her best friend from the things that haunted the detective the most.

"Promise," Jane rasped, finally giving more and more to the tug of sleep as the pain killers stole through her willpower, drawing her back into deep sleep. "Wanna be better now."

"You'll feel better someday," Maura soothed, finding her friend's arm and giving it a gentle pat. "It's a long road, but I'm here. Always."


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, we'll see where this goes. I feel like continuing chapters are a voyage into unknown territory, and it gets harder to keep things close to the show. I don't have a beta, so I apologize for errors. I do catch most of them, but sometimes I type fast and as I'm changing words, I think I deleted one and didn't. Reviews, as always, are wonderful. I have to say thank you to all of the kind and gracious reviews from the last chapter. The Rizzoli & Isles community is very supportive, and (when the muse is speaking, anyway) it's a pleasure to write and know the audience is really reading this! As far as additional chapters go, we'll see. Feel free to suggest facets you would like to see—maybe it will spark a thought and help me figure out where to go with this thing._

She was hot, and the covers felt too constricting. Jane pushed away the heat, blinking and wondering what time of day it was. Her room was dark, curtains shut firmly to keep out any light, probably to make sure she slept as best as she could. "Maura? … Pop?" she called uncertainly. Her side was a little achy from laying in one position too long, and experimentally she stretched by degrees. Legs straightened and flexed, arms stretching carefully, stopping when she felt the pull against her injury.

The doorknob turned and opened quietly, Maura's red head peeking in. "Jane?" she whispered, daylight filtering through the hallway behind her.

"I'm awake," Jane rasped, yawning hugely and rubbing at her eyes. She could hear the light tread of her best friend crossing the room, and the curtains parted a little, letting in mid-morning light.

Maura perched on the edge of the bed, looking casual chic in those legging looking things and her fashionable sleeveless top with the ruffles. It made Jane feel grubby in comparison, and she wished she could sink to her neck in a bubble bath—one of her guilty pleasures that had been denied her until her incision healed fully. "Open up," she urged, holding out the thermometer.

"I feel better," she answered hopefully, "and I'm thirsty."

"I have some Gatorade for you, but not until we get your temperature." She held out the thermometer, smiling a little when Jane obliged by opening her mouth and closing it around the end of the thermometer. "Sit tight, I'll be back with the Gatorade."

Gingerly, the detective shifted, leaning against the pillows to find a more comfortable spot as she waited for Maura to return. She wanted something to drink, and she wanted a bath. A damp cloth was probably the best she was going to get, and it irritated her that she couldn't even jump in the shower. Even after losing some covers, she felt hot, so Jane worked off both socks, one leg sliding out from under the light sheet and balancing out the remaining warmth.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and Jane let herself drift a little. It amazed her that she could _still_ be tired, but she let herself relax, knowing there was nothing else to do anyway. She wondered what day it was, wondered how Frankie was doing and if he would stop by later. If her father had a job going, if her mother was in the living room driving Maura crazy or out selling that juice stuff and driving everyone crazy.

"Still awake?" Maura asked as she rejoined her, carrying a coffee travel mug.

"Yeah," the brunette replied as she handed over the thermometer and let Maura help her sit up a little, supported by a mountain of pillows. She sipped the cup, glad they had found some orange flavored Gatorade instead of something like that lemon-lime flavor. She drained the cup steadily finally looking up at Maura. "Am I gonna make it?" she tossed the question casually.

The startled look in the hazel eyes darting to her told Jane that she'd hit a raw subject, and she closed her mouth quickly, apologetic. "Sorry… I just meant… is my fever down."

"Yes," Maura replied, turning the thermometer over with her fingers and shifting to the nightstand to scribble down a date, time, and temperature in the journal she had been keeping. When she turned back to her best friend, her face was smoothed into a mask of composure.

"Maura, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that … I was just joking and being stupid." It bothered Jane that her friend seemed to have no desire to talk about this right now, and she felt like a heel for it. Sarcasm had always been a coping mechanism, and she knew it occasionally made her look like a first class jerk, however she didn't always feel regret.

Slender fingers took Jane's wrist, and she quickly caught the pulse, her eyes glued to her watch, counting silently. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

Jane knew avoidance when she saw it, and she knew that since Maura failed so epically at lying that the smaller woman would divert the conversation. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she said quietly.

The eyes that lifted this time were watery, but several blinks seemed to clear the majority of it before any tears could fall. "Jane, I know you didn't mean to." That much, Jane was sure, was honest, and she let it go for now. A stethoscope followed, and Maura listened to her breath for several moments before she was satisfied that everything sounded like it should and added to her notes. "You're still running a low fever, ninety-nine point four. And I won't be surprised if it spikes later this morning on in the afternoon."

"You're not sending me back to the hospital?"

Her friend shook her head. "I think we can reach a compromise."

Brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean by that? Slucky's not coming over, is he?"

Maura gave her a pained smile. "No, he's not. But I can tell you're already getting cold again," she replied, tucking a blanket back over Jane. "You still feel warm, and I'm serious about your fever coming back later. Plus, you need help to clean up and to manage the bandage changes. I know your parents have been great, and I still plan to be here a lot, too."

"Drop the other shoe," Jane begged, hating that Maura was right as she tugged the blanket up over her shoulder for warmth.

"I spoke with Byron, and he's agreed it's in your best interest to have a home healthcare nurse drop in each day. Eventually we'll cut it back to a few days a week until you're back on your feet. Well, on your feet in the metaphoric sense … and the literal sense." Maura traded the empty mug for a bottle of water.

Jane's brow wrinkled as she thought through this one. It definitely beat Slucky, hands down. "Make sure it's someone nice, huh? That can handle Ma when she's here?"

Maura nodded. "I have a few leads already, and I think I've found the right person. You're okay with this? I think it's the best solution. And if your fever goes up too much, we have options to care of it here, without needing to send you to the hospital."

The dark head nodded, settling against the pillow. "Don't really have a choice, do I."

"Well, it's either this or I'm hypothesizing that you could end up back at the hospital later tonight."

"You're not making a hypothesis. You know what you're talking about, Maura," Jane mumbled, not fighting the yawn.

Maura reached forward, gently tucking a wild strand of hair behind her friend's hear, frowning a little at the warmth she could feel radiating from Jane. "One more thing before you fall asleep again, drink down some of that water."

"It's so cold," the detective sighed, struggling to twist off the top and hating how weak she felt. She managed it on her second try, sipping a little and shivering as she felt it traveling down, cooling her further.

"It's better than a UTI, or an IV."

"Beside manner much?" Jane grumbled, sipping down several more mouthfuls. "Drink more later," she sighed, eyes slipping shut. She didn't really even acknowledge Maura taking the bottle and setting it on the nightstand, nor the scribble of the pen as her best friend added to her notes.


	3. Chapter 3

_I didn't expect to have the next chapter so soon, but here it is. I have ideas on at least one more chapter, and we'll see what happens after that.. Hopefully tonight gives me some of the insight and inspiration for the next chapter that I'm hoping the new episode will give me. I really do love the reviews. Thank you. In case there is any doubt, I do not own any of these characters. They belong to the brilliant Tess Gerritson and TNT._

Maura Isles was two feet from the door when she heard it, and she winced at the shouting she could hear coming from her friend's apartment. For a few moments, she hesitated outside, unsure if she should use her key and come on in or leave and come back later.

"I just want what's best for Janie!" came Frank's retort.

It was followed by a passionate rebuttal, "What, and I _don't_? You think I like seeing her sick? Seeing her laying there and miserable? This _is_ what's best for Janie."

"She should be in a freakin' hospital, Angela!"

Under any other circumstances, Maura was sure that Jane would have left the apartment by now. And likely would have appeared on her doorstep. It made the ME wonder what kind of rest, if any, her friend could get with the battle raging on the other side of the door. They had made it through a day and a half of home health care, Jane's fever still spiking every so often—high but not enough to make anyone worry about her system going septic just yet. So far, the exchanges between the elder Rizzolis had been civilized, but Maura had known it wouldn't last.

She was grateful that Jane had been unconscious through the biggest blow ups between Angela and Frank. A few times the fights had been so loud and intense that nurses slipped from the room and wouldn't come back in until Maura went to seek them out and assure another truce had been declared. She and Frankie had spoken briefly about it, once, after Jane's brother had witnessed an argument—an argument that neither Frankie nor Maura could determine a specific subject.

It was getting worse, and she hated that for Jane. First of all, it was not doing Jane any favors in regard to her recovery. Even if nearly every argument had taken place when the detective wasn't present, the negative energy was palpable. Secondly, it was setting her friend's support system on edge. And lastly, Maura felt an inexplicable pressure to tell her friend what she was seeing, and yet she felt the Isles rearing that one should stay out of other's family problems keeping her from speaking up. It seemed a most precarious situation indeed.

At the moment, she was going to take her chances. Taking her spare key out, she fitting it to the lock, rattling it unnecessarily. "Hello, it's Maura," she called, although she was certain she had never bothered to announce herself before. Somehow it seemed appropriate to the situation. And to her relief, the raised voices cut off mid-sentence.

As she pushed the door open, she could see Angela and Frank had squared off. Angela's rigid posture and firmly crossed arms screamed that she was on the defensive, along with the way she stood with most of her weight centered on her heels. It suggested she felt defensive and unyielding.

Frank wasn't looking any more open to his wife, as he stood behind the couch, hands braced on the back of it, as though he could push the piece of furniture or anything else out of his way. His jaw was set, mouth pressed into a disagreeable line.

"I, ah, brought some orange juice and more soup stock for Jane," the younger woman said, skirting the couple and heading for the kitchen and its refrigerator to unload her goods. "How is Jane?" she treaded lightly into the subject, hoping they would stick to simply Jane and not their obviously divergent feelings about how Jane was or was not doing.

"She has another fever, up to a hundred point eight earlier," Angela said when Frank continued to glare at her. "But she got down some of my gnocchi soup for lunch this afternoon. I can stay with Jane tonight if you want to go home."

Maura gave a small smile. "I don't mind, Angela. Is she asleep?" She tried to keep the doubt out of her voice, thinking that unless Jane had recently taken her pain medicine it was unlikely her friend had slept through the fight.

"She was earlier," Frank muttered, eyes narrowed at his wife, his tone accusing.

"She sleeps hard," Angela retorted. "And it's a good thing. Besides, it's even more reason she should be in her own home. She can get the rest she needs and quiet."

Frank shook his head, "some quiet."

Maura really, really did not want to be the have to calm them. It was one thing to light into Frost and Korsak and call a truce—were colleagues, even if Korsak insisted, erroneously, that he wasn't old enough to be their father. In fact, it was possible, though unlikely. Yet, Jane's parents were something else altogether. "Did the nurse leave notes?"

"Yeah, the thing's over there." Angela pointed to the table and settled into a chair in the tense silence.

The notes were Maura's escape, and she soaked up the clinical notations. Blood pressure, respiration, body temperature and notes on the change out of the IV solutions were routine for her. Alright, maybe her line of work didn't see very many IVs, but it was familiar. Cut and dry.

She hated that they had needed to put Jane on an IV at all, but they hadn't had a choice. When her friend had started feeling nauseous, the nurse had decided it was necessary, and Maura had known it was medically the best thing to do. They simply couldn't risk Jane getting dehydrated, and it had seemed to alleviate the nausea, though Jane's appetite had been lacking since the shooting. Not that this surprised anyone. Right now, most of the nutrients were coming through the IV and saline solutions.

"She needs to go to the hospital," Frank finally spoke up, his voice not very loud but certainly loud enough to be heard.

"She's doing better already here," Angela answered, voice on edge but at least much quieter now that Maura was visibly present. "Her fever didn't go as high today."

"It's not right. She's gotta have a doctor around—I mean the hospital type, no offense, Maura."

"Don't you insult Maura!" Jane's mother pounced on the words instantly.

The redhead looked up from the notes, shoulders shrugging. "It's accurate. I'm not a surgeon, although I did spend two years in _Medicins sans—_um, Doctors Without Borders. I promise Jane's receiving excellent care here, and it's less stressful on her as she recovers to be in familiar surroundings." Admittedly, it was nice to have Angela defend her, but she understood Frank's concerns.

"See," Angela retorted. "Janie's fine."

_Fine, _Maura reflected, was not a very accurate assessment of Jane's current condition, but she didn't voice her opinion. "She's improving," she amended.

Frank pushed himself up from the chair and grabbed his overnight bag. "Okay, I get when I'm beaten. You say she's fine, whatever. But if Janie gets any worse, I'm taking her in myself. I'll carry her in if I have to. Tell her I'll call tomorrow and see how she is." He didn't waste time with any other words, letting himself out quickly with a gruff _goodbye_ that wasn't directed at either woman in particular.

"That man," Angela gritted between her teeth. Before Maura could think of a word to say, Angela was on her feet and rummaging through the kitchen. "You look hungry. I'm gonna cook something. You hungry? You know what, I know just the thing to make. Give me an hour, we'll have a feast."

It seemed a response on Maura's part wasn't required, so she shifted the nurse's notes to her other hand and turned in the direction of the bedroom. "I'll just, um… go check on Jane."


	4. Chapter 4

_Been working on this all week. We'll have to see what else happens in inspiration-land for me to continue this fic. I don't think it's finished just, yet, and I love playing with Maura & Jane. They're both so fabulously complex, for which I think Ms. Gerritsen, TNT, and the stars of Rizzoli & Isles. And just to throw it out there, reviews make my day._

Jane buried her head under a pillow, ignoring the fact that she felt hot again. _Broke another fever_. She had no idea how many she had been through in the last few days, but she wished she could convince herself to get up and find a clean shirt. Instead, she shifted carefully, not wanting to catch her right arm and its IV on anything. From experience, she kept one sheet over her, knowing that if she got too cool it would feel impossible to get warm again.

She was glad she couldn't make out the words coming from her living room. It was too much like a couple hundred nights of her childhood. The worst of her parents' fights would send Frankie and sometimes Tommy, and on rare occasions both her younger brothers, to her room for refuge. She'd never had the heart to kick them out or tease them for it. It felt better having them around. She never wanted to know what any of those fights were about.

In the full dark of her room, Jane reached for her phone. She turned it on and silenced it before the message alerts could make noise and let her family know she was awake. Frost had sent her a quick email, that made her smile a bit. She would reply to it later. The only other email was another one of those super cheesy e-cards from Korsak, complete with kittens and puppies. He was an odd one—Korsak—all gruff and seasoned cop with a soft spot a mile wide for animals.

As the scrolled through old messages, she couldn't help but feel a little put out that Maura hadn't texted her since this morning. _Well, Jane, she's working a fulltime job and taking care of you part time. And sometimes she even gets to sleep and eat._ She was tempted to just call her best friend, but she didn't want Maura to worry if she was in the middle of work. Maura had worried enough lately.

Fumbling at the screen, having to hold the phone awkwardly to compensate for the IV, she typed. _Maur, call me when you're free._

There wasn't much else to do right now. She could turn on the small spare TV that Frankie had sent over, but the light and even soft sound might alert her parents to the fact that she was awake. She didn't want to see either of them right now. Her phone had a few games on it, but Jane didn't really think she could concentrate enough to enjoy any of them.

Before she could do anything else, however, she became aware of a slant of light appearing, and she shut her eyes quickly. She went limp, face partly obscured by the sheet, and tried to breathe slowly. As she waited, she became aware of how quiet her apartment had become. Only the soft, distant rattling of pots in her kitchen let her know her mother was still here, which meant that was probably her father in the doorway, but she tried to keep up her act.

"Jane, I know you're awake."

"Maura?" Her good hand tugged back the blanket, and she motioned her friend inside. "Close the door, huh?"

A quiet shuffling followed, and Maura's cellphone screen illuminated the sudden until she navigated the room and clicked on the bedside lamp. It unnerved Jane that her friend wasn't immediately asking about her fever or pain levels. Despite her text not a minute earlier, suddenly she couldn't think of anything to say and simply hugged her pillow instead and ventured, "Um… is Pop still here?"

"He left," Maura answered apologetically, settling to sit on the empty side of the bed, her back against the headboard. "But he said he would call you tomorrow. And your mother's cooking dinner."

Jane didn't want to know who late it was. She didn't want to know what her father's mood was. And she didn't want to know what they were fighting about. She wondered, though, if they were fighting about her. She could handle fighting about almost anything else—other things were fixable. But so many things were happening, had happened, that she hadn't meant… The quiet made her look up, and the expression on her best friend's face made her bite her bottom lip to hold back sudden tears. "Don't look at me like that," Jane whispered fiercely.

Maura's brow wrinkled.

"Like you're trying to decide if you need to tell me something. I know you were in there, during the… in the other room." She sighed, face twisting with pain as she breathed too quickly and triggered that nagging pain in her side. "Oh…"

Her friend sat up instantly, a hand falling on Jane's shoulder. "Jane—"

"I-it's okay," the detective answered, taking a careful breath.

Maura helped her find a more comfortable position. "Can I change the bandage and check it?"

The dark head bobbed in consent, and she made a small noise of agreement. This was familiar, and she clung to a sense of normalcy. Of at least one person acting like herself. Jane embraced the familiar bite of tender skin and sore muscles, letting it distract her. Gloves, like always, were cool against her skin

"This is looking better. It's less red than before. Do you have much pain?"

"About a five today. Better… just tired," came a quiet reply. The soft rattle of pans from the kitchen settled around her like a blanket, and she tapped her fingers idly against the mattress, running the familiar opening treble run to _Clair d'Lune_. She hadn't played the piece in years, but it had been a practice piece in her later years of piano, and she had always loved the gentle melody that started so sweetly and wound itself into a deeper, resonant labyrinth of sound.

She barely felt the coolness of the Neosporin as Maura swabbed it at the stitches and carefully covered it again with a clean dressing. The way her friend was saying her name, Jane was sure it was at least the third or fourth time Maura had tried to pull her out of the thought path she had wandered down.

"Hey," came that empathetic voice, one slender hand reaching for Jane's IV-free wrist and giving it enough of a gentle squeeze.

For the life of her, Jane didn't know where the tears came from, but they spilled over before she could say anything. "I'm so tired, Maur. Tired of here. Tired of that," she added, eyes flickering to the other room as she sniffed. It brought another twinge in her side, and she struggled to keep her breath even, feeling shaky and wrung out.

Maura's other hand rested on her back, stroking slowly, reassuring. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her own tears streaming down her face. "They're just stressed out and worried about your recovery… you're doing better, and they'll … they'll see that. Get over this fever, and you can come visit me for a few days. And get a break from your place." The hand rubbed between Jane's shoulders, and Jane felt herself drifting again.

She was afraid it was more than just worrying about her. And, Jane knew if she was being honest with herself, her biggest fear wasn't that her parents fought about her. It was that she worried they fought about everything. She submitted to Maura's fussing, letting her friend take her temperature and letting herself be coaxed into the drugs she didn't like because of how sleepy they made her. And letting herself be comforted by the improvements in her recovery that Maura was noting.

Maybe it was cowardly of her, to bury back into the covers, but she didn't fight it. And she later thanked Maura for bringing in a warm washcloth to wash her face with before her mother brought in some gnocchi soup for her and some tortellini for Maura.


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, we keep seeing where this leads. I'm about out of ideas, so no promises about any more chapters. I'm open to suggestions or ideas, but truly make no promises. I never expected to make it to 5 chapters as is. It's been a long weekend and previous week for me, and I'm about wiped out. Good night, readers, and please remember that reviews are such fun to receive! As always, these characters are not mine. They belong to Tess Gerritsen, TNT, and the lovely actresses that bring them to life. I just psychoanalyze them._

Dark eyes perused the letter for the second time, and Jane mulled over the brief letter. It was only about three-quarters of a page long, but it was at least the tenth letter Tommy had written to her. As frustrated as she had been regarding his release, followed by a twinge of disappointment (but not really surprise) when she'd later learned his sentence had been extended, she was grateful that the warden had at least allowed him an extra call from their mother on the day of the shooting. Word traveled fast in prison, and at least he could hear that Frankie was pulling through surgery well and that Jane was still fighting.

Maybe, she reflected, it had been a wake up call for their little brother. A stark portrayal of how tenuous life could be. Honestly, Jane didn't really care what had caused the change. Now that she was able to have some time to herself, she was determined to give at least a little written assurance that she really was recovering. She'd managed one letter before leaving the hospital, but hadn't written again since the infection.

Tucking away the letter with the others in a small messenger bag, she pulled out a small notebook and a pen. A glance to her right told her that Maura was still deeply asleep on the next chaise over. She hoped the weather stayed nice and that her friend could enjoy a long nap in the shade today. Maura's nasal-whatever-they-were-called-folds were definitely dark. Her schedule was exhausting her, and it didn't take a detective, nor someone with a medical degree, to figure that out.

Stifling her own yawn, she took a moment to survey the backyard. Bass was sunning himself in the grass, and Jo Friday had curled up by her feet. It was good to have her dog around. Korsak had taken him for the last weeks, and she wasn't sure she could manage all of the walks during this next week. But a long weekend at Maura's with her dog was the change of pace she had needed. Her parents had taken the weekend to get their own rest, although her mother had made sure to send plenty prepared meals with them—enough that Jane probably could have fed half of the homicide division for three days at least.

She began to write now, a little unsure about how to start but determined to give her baby brother some assurance that she was better than the last update he'd had.

_Hey Tommy,_

_I'm doing a lot better and finally off of that IV. They still have me on a bunch of different stuff to make sure I don't get any more infections, but Maura says it's looking good, so it should be good. _

Jane smirked to herself. Maura would never say it _looked good_, but she sure couldn't remember all of the medical terms that her friend threw about as though it were every day lingo.

_Speaking of Maura, I escaped to her place for the weekend. Korsak brought Jo Friday over, too. I didn't realize how much I missed that dog until yesterday. Maura's been taking care of my turtle for me. Did I tell you I have a turtle now? It's really little but I guess eventually it'll grow really big, and they live practically forever. Who would have thought. Me with a turtle?_

_I'm glad you're focused on getting out and stuff. It's been hard on Ma with Frankie and me getting hurt. I think she just wants to have us all together. It's not the same, but it'll be good. _

_Thanks for all the letters. Sorry it's taken me a while to get back to them, but I didn't want Ma or Pop reading them to me. I'll try to write more now that things are getting better. They're saying I have to start some physical therapy soon. Maura got this nurse set up to come to my place for now so I don't have to take a thousand years to get down the steps outside and stuff. It takes forever to walk around just from a room to the next. Get this—Maura made me ride in this wheelchair from the stairs to her car and then into her house. It felt like the freaking Pope-mobile. A couple of the neighbors were waving and stuff. It's weird to have people suddenly thinking I'm _

She paused, searching for the words and sighed. _Hero,_ was the answer, but she hated to even write that down. She had avoided the newspapers and the news broadcast. On the day she had finally been released from the hospital, they had taken an alternate route out of the building through the parking garage. It had been quiet—just her parents and Frankie picking her up and then getting her settled at home. She had begged Maura not to be there, to hold off the rest of the homicide unit from overwhelming her.

By the time she had gotten home and inside, she had been glad. One news crew was at her place, and she'd let her brother handle the reporters. Honestly, she had no idea what he said but they had moved on before too long and let her complete her shuffle up the stairs and inside in relative privacy. Sheer determination and a wheelchair in the hallway had helped her make it to her bed, where she had promptly fallen into a two hour nap. She hadn't made it long without a nap yesterday, either, after the stairs and then getting settled at Maura's.

_Something I'm not_, were the words she choose to finish out the sentence.

_I'm ready for everything to be normal again. Anyway, thanks for the letters. Keep writing, okay? I need something to do besides think about how much I want a steak and beer and coffee instead of oatmeal and water. _

_Be safe, Jane_

She folded the letter carefully, tucking it into her bag to have Maura put in an envelope and mail later. Just as she finished putting it away, she looked over and caught the sleepy hazel eyes watching her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Maura answered lazily, yawning and sitting up a little. "I didn't mean to sleep like that."

The detective shrugged. "I didn't really mean to fall asleep out here, either, this morning."

"Mmm," came the soft agreement. "I woke up and wondered where you went."

Jane gave a small smile, catching the mild concern in her friend's voice. "Well, you know I didn't go far. It looked nice outside, and you needed the sleep. I grabbed one of those organic yogurt things from the fridge and decided it would be nice to get outside a little. Jo thought it was a good idea, too."

Her dog gave a little half growl in her sleep, legs kicking in a run for a few moments to the amusement of both women.

"How did that work out for you?" the medical examiner asked, eyes flickered into the cane with its quad base.

Jane made a face. "A necessary evil. You know I hate that thing."

"Yes," her friend answered. "But thank you for using it." She rubbed her eyes and blinked in the late afternoon haze. It was starting to cloud up a bit, and she could see Bass slowly making his way back toward the house.

"Yeah, well, okay it does help me get around easier. I'm ready to be off of it, though." She had drawn the line at the suggestion of a walker to help her get mobile. It wasn't a balance issue as much as it was simply the support. She'd lost stamina and strength, and while she was getting up again now that she was over the last round of infection, Jane still needed something solid to hold onto to move from one room to the other.

The quiet fell between them, and Jane finally filled it with, "I wrote a letter to Tommy. Can you mail it for me?"

Maura gave her a soft smile, and she had to admit it was nice to see her friend in a genuinely good mood. "Of course." She sat up a moment later, just as Jo Friday rolled to her own four feet and gave a little whimper, thunder echoing a moment later. "Rain… we should head in."

"Yeah," Jane agreed, pushing slowly to her feet and holding onto the sturdy frame of the chaise while she pulled her messenger bag over her shoulder and took hold of the cane. As Maura stashed the cushions, she started the trek indoors.

Once they were under the cover of the patio, Maura slid open the door, letting Jo Friday scramble in and find somewhere safe to hide, followed by a lumbering Bass. She took Jane's cane and slid and arm around her tall friend. "How about something a little more substantial than organic yogurt for lunch? Your mother sent over plenty of options."

"Sounds good, but let me cut up some fruit or something for us, too, huh? I don't want you to have to do everything for me, Maur."

Maura gave her a long look, "I don't mind. You're just starting to really recover from that last setback. I know this is a break for you, but the point was to let you have somewhere to really relax. Away from your parents and stress."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me," Jane admitted quietly, taking the careful step over the threshold and taking a seat at the large island in the kitchen. The gentle squeeze to her arm made her look down at the woman beside her.

"You're not a burden to anyone, Jane Rizzoli." Maura shifted, looking square at her and giving her that no-nonsense look. "You know you're my guest, and you're always welcome here. This is your long weekend away to talk about what you're dealing with or to not talk about it."

When Maura put it so bluntly, the detective couldn't help but feel the chaos of emotions that the words _family_ brought up right now. She swallowed hard and nodded instead. "Okay," she agreed, voice husky as she took a slow breath and let the urge to cry fall past her like the rain starting to build outside. "I promise to rest this weekend on one condition."

Her friend gave her that _you're-in-no-position-to-be-making-conditions_ look but finally nodded and humored her. "Terms?"

"You get some rest, too. I promise to let you know if I really need something. And you have to promise to not freak out if you wake up and I'm on the back porch 'cause I went outside and got tired and fell asleep again. And to let me start dealing with Ma and Pop a little more." The look of surprise told Jane that her friend didn't realize how much Jane was starting to see the stress of dealing with the Rizzoli family. It was becoming more than just 'crazy Rizzoli family drama.' But. She wasn't going to think about that right now either.

The redhead nodded. "Deal—on one condition. My terms: you sit down, take your meds and let me heat up some of that chicken noodle soup. Followed by a fantastically boring nature documentary sure to put you to sleep again."

"As long as I get to stretch out on the couch, you have a deal." Jane accepted the cup of water and the medicine sorter, taking out her lunchtime round. Lunch and another nap sounded fine with her, and with any luck the documentary would be so sufficiently boring that Maura would get some extra rest, too. They both needed it.


	6. Chapter 6

_And so it continues. Maura needed some attention, especially after the sadness that was last night's episode—someone needed to give that poor lady a hug! Anyway, no more talk from me about this ending or not. When it ends, it ends. We've got some more drama and post-shooting trauma to deal with! As always, not my characters. And I always appreciate reviews!_

The blood was hot against her hands, pulsing, gushing out faster than she could stop it. Everything around her was moving in slow motion, every sound muffled and far-away, but this… this blood was moving in fast forward. "Get your hand in here!" she shouted at the nearest person to her, grabbing Frost's hand and pressing it against Jane's side.

He was saying something, and someone else was trying to talk, but she couldn't hear them. Maura's hands were both pressed against Jane's back, trying to staunch the flow. She wouldn't feel the rough concrete scraping her knees until later. "Where is that EMT crew?" she shouted, trying not to think about how fast Jane was losing blood, refusing to look at the pool seeping into her skirt. "Jane? C'mon, Jane, open your eyes!"

It took Korsak and Frost to pull her back when the EMT crew did finally arrive. One medic tried to urge her back, but she fought the arms, only letting her friends move her as she saw the pressure bandages sliding into place. They were asking her questions, but she couldn't hear a word they said. It was a combination of shock and the flash grenades, her mind finally kicked into gear, doing some fast assessment. "Flash grenades," she tried to explain, realizing that Korsak was mouthing the same thing to the fifth medic who had turned her attention to Maura.

"No, I'm fine, you've got to get Jane to the hospital. She's bleeding out, has perforated organs, and God knows what else—" She staggered slightly as she rose to her feet, legs shaky and her sense of balance affected just as much as her hearing had been by the flash grenades. "I'm going with her."

They had tried all of twenty seconds to argue with her, but Maura couldn't hear and wouldn't be dissuaded. She had let Frost all but lift her into the back of the ambulance and had quickly cleaned her hands as best she could before taking hold of Jane's forearm and began talking, probably much too loudly. "Jane! Open your eyes. Come on, look at me, Jane Rizzoli!"

"Maur? Maura?"

The sheer darkness of the room left Maura disoriented, and she reached out, feeling nothing until her arm connected with the couch cushions. "Wha?"

"Hey… it was a bad dream," came that familiar husky voice, a hand rubbing her ankle and nearly making her levitate off of the couch.

The medical examiner fumbled for the lamp nearby, nearly knocking it from the end table before she managed to produce light, making her scowl at the brightness. She was still shaking as she turned back to the couch and her best friend, looking sadly at her from the opposite side.

"It was just a bad dream, Maur." Jane was using the calm, assuring voice she used with children or otherwise frightened witnesses. Dark eyes were soft and sympathetic.

The redhead pushed herself up and scooted closer, one hand gently resting on Jane's shoulder. "Can I check your wound?" Maura could feel the tremble that went through her as her hand finally closed around the familiar warmth of her friend's very-much-alive body. She needed to touch, to assure herself that this was reality.

Jane, bless her, hadn't questioned her at all and seemed to understand this intense need to find her own reassurance. "Of course."

Carefully, as though dealing with one of her father's antique manuscripts, Maura lifted the shirt and inspected the sutures on Jane's back. The line was pink and a bit scabbed, rough where it met, sutures etching small marks across it, but it was healing. There was no visible inflammation, no blood or otherwise reddish-brown leaking substances.

As she lowered Jane's shirttail and shifted on the couch, one of her friend's slender arms wrapped around her in a gentle hug. "It was a bad dream, Maura. You were dreaming about that afternoon."

The tears spilled out before Maura could reply, so she simply nodded, hands wiping under both eyes. That evening in the waiting room of the hospital, every time she had closed her eyes she could still see Jane on the ground, could still smell the blood pouring out of both Jane and Marino. She sniffled but didn't try very hard to hold back the tears, too tired to fight them.

Her best friend simply sat beside her, letting her cry it out for a little while, a hand rubbing between Maura's shoulder blades. It helped, having that contact, feeling the definite aliveness of Jane beside her. She simply let off some of the emotion, finally accepting a Kleenex and rubbing at her face. "I, um… Didn't even realize I had fallen asleep."

Jane nodded. "Yeah, really boring nature documentary, remember? The lifecycle of an amoeba?"

Maura nodded and gave a half laugh, half cry before sighing and going limp against the back of the couch. "I remember now … I'm sorry, I guess I just … I'm okay."

Dark eyebrows rose in mild skepticism, but Jane didn't bother to verbally contradict her. "Want to talk about it?"

Slender shoulders lifted and fell. "You know, or can guess. It was like in the morgue with Frankie. I was the only one who could help you—_right then_. It was ridiculous. I was screaming instructions but couldn't communicate with anyone. The flash grenades had my ears ringing for a good hour after we got to the hospital. I couldn't hear anything they were trying to tell me and just babbled out medical lingo and what I knew about your blood type and known allergies and hoped it would help something. Make you … okay."

"Ma said they considered admitting you."

Maura shrugged off the comment as though she could shrug off the memory. "Temporary tinnitus. A few scrapes. A little off balance, but it didn't last long."

Jane's hand wrapped around her wrist. "I really am sorry. For making you have to go through that. I didn't make it easy with Frankie, either, down in autopsy. It wasn't fair of me to yell at you and… everything."

Maura gave a watery smile and a little sigh, seeing Jane give her own hard swallow and will away tears again. "We're both pretty tired, still. It was what it was—you would do anything for your family, and I love that you care about people so much. You're a passionate person, but it's who you are. You being anything less would make you not Jane Rizzoli." She let out a breath of frustration. "I'm babbling."

"We're both tired," Jane reminded. "And you're dealing with me _and_ the crazy Rizzoli family." It didn't escape Maura's notice, emotionally drained though she was, that Jane didn't elaborate on that last part. It wasn't time to bring up the Rizzoli family just yet. The brunette slowly got to her feet, leaning on the cane. "We need some sleep."

"Yeah," Maura agreed, head tilting slightly as she glanced down the hall toward the rooms. "I think I need a friend and a nightlight tonight."

Jane nodded, falling in a very slow step with her as they made their way down the hall. "Yeah, me too. I think we'll both feel better if we get a little rest. No more nightmares tonight."

"No more nightmares," Maura echoed, hoping it would be true.


	7. Chapter 7

_And some more musings and ramblings about the Rizzoli family drama & Jane's recovery. Thanks for reading. I don't own any of these characters or season 2 would have a lot more angst._

The house was quiet, save the distant roar of driving rain when the doorbell rang. Maura slipped her iPad from her lap and padded toward the entrance, checking through the peephole before she slid the chain loose and opened the door. "Frankie, hey," she greeted with a warm smile, ushering him inside quickly. "Come in, it's wet out there."

"No kidding," Jane's brother agreed, ducking inside and slipping from his jacket. "You got somewhere I can put this? I made a fast dash from the car."

"Of course." Maura slipped a hanger from the coat closet and slid the jacket on before hanging it at the entrance to her laundry room. As she returned to the living room, she couldn't help but smile a little at the sight of Frankie shifting from one foot to another as he eyed the various pieces of furniture. It was much like Jane had looked when they had visited the Fairfield home the year before—uncertain, curious, and hesitant to touch anything. "Frankie, have a seat, make yourself at home," she urged. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink?"

He shrugged. "Nah, I came to see Janie. Is she around?"

Maura gestured down the hall. "She was sleeping last time I checked. It's just down the hallway …" She hesitated a moment before adding, "It was a rough morning for her. All this rain is causing a barometric shift, and that is causing—" She stopped herself as Frankie's brow furrowed in confusion, clearly struggling to follow her conversation. "Her pain levels were up this morning, so she took one of her strong pain meds. It always makes her really sleepy and groggy."

"_Jane?"she had murmured quietly, one hand carefully stroking her friend's back as Jane cried in her sleep. A crash of thunder made her jump a little, and she scooted closer to the other side of the guest bed, rubbing a little more firmly against Jane's back. "Jane?"_

_Her friend woke with a soft groan, and Maura could hear the quiet sniffles. "'Time's it?"_

"_Four thirty seven AM," Maura replied, reaching for the bedside table and grimacing at the soft glow of the lamp as she turned it on. "You were … crying." She could feel the tension in Jane's shoulders._

_Jane nodded in agreement, though the streaks on her face were only further evidence that, yes, she had been crying. "Hurts … a lot," she answered, jaw tight as she flexed her hands._

"_Your hands or—"_

"_Hands, ribs that were grazed, the toe I broke when I was eleven playing street hockey…"_

"_It's the weather," Maura sighed. She disentangled herself from bedding and slipped into the guest bathroom for a few moments before returning with a cup of water and a pill. Without a word, she handed the over. The fact that Jane took it without a single complaint was a testament to just how bad the pain was today._

_When Jane handed back the empty cup, Maura set it on the bedside table, turned off the light again and settled back into bed, pulling the covers up around both of them. "Don't fight sleep," she requested._

_The room fell quiet, save for the steady rain falling outside. Maura was almost certain that Jane was sleep again when she heard her best friend whisper, "I'm scared … that I'm going to get hooked on those."_

_She reached out and gave the detective's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "They're to help you with the breakthrough pain. You don't take them often enough to get hooked on them."_

"_Still scares me," Jane slurred, the drugs clearly starting to kick in._

"I'm worried about her," Frankie muttered, more to himself than to Maura. He took her up on the suggestion to check on his sister. The house fell quiet again, and she stretched a little before taking up her iPad again. The notes she was making held her attention for a while, and she almost didn't hear when Frankie returned.

Only the soft scuff of his shoe against the carpet caught her attention, and she set down her tablet beside her. "The rain's getting to you, too," she observed casually. "Didn't you have a pain prescription, too?"

He shook his head. "Nope, I'm down to over-the-counter now."

The redhead frowned. "Frankie, you had cracked bones. If you—"

"No, I'm okay. It's not that bad, honest, doc."

She motioned for him to take a seat, mouth pressing into a wry smile. "Is this a cop thing or a Rizzoli thing?"

Frankie shrugged. "Jane turned down her drugs, too?"

"She tries to. Byron gave her a lecture about that last time he saw her. Her body has to rest if it's going to recover, and it can't do that when she doesn't follow her medicine regiment. It's stressing her body to deal with too much pain."

He gave a rueful laugh. "I bet that went over big with my sister. She hates that doc."

There was no reply for Maura to make, save nodding. She had spoken to Byron just this morning, not long after she'd awakened around nine thirty to more rain and dog that simultaneously needed to go outside and was terrified to set a paw beyond the door.

Byron had wanted her to meet him for lunch, and no doubt, for bed as well. When she turned him down, mentioning Jane was over for the weekend, he had suggested that he offer the detective a narcotic. She hadn't appreciated the comment had has frostily skirted his request for dinner later in the week with a vague, "_I really can't say right now—it's a busy week."_ She could think of dozens of things she needed to do—a good yoga class or two, a run to the dry cleaners, touching base with her interior decorator, contacting Habitat for Humanity to donate the couch she was soon replacing, and taking Jo Friday to the groomers…

"Maura?" Frankie asked, sinking down at the opposite end of the couch.

"Hhm?" It finally registered that her phone was ringing. "Sorry, excuse me a moment—oh… it's… okay," she shook her head slightly as if to clear her thoughts and accepted the call. "Good morning, Angela."

The plan for the weekend had been for Jane to rest and take a break from her family, but it seemed Angela couldn't resist checking in. In the elder Rizzoli's defense, she had stayed out of the loop for a solid day now. While she had sent Jane a quick message that didn't necessarily require a reply, it was clear to Maura that Angela expected her friend to reply. And Jane hadn't. Thus, concern.

It was a fine line. If she gave too much information to Angela, Angela would be worried about Jane being in pain and would drop by to see for herself. If she was too vague, Angela would drop by for her own peace of mind. She settled on _resting, catching up on a lot of sleep_ and breathed a soft sigh of relief when the call ended.

"Ma?"

The redhead nodded. "She's still worried. I think Jane's finally in the clear now. If she'd just get some rest, she could made a faster recovery, but she fights it. And she fights her vitamins, let alone her medicine.

Frankie toyed with his own cellphone, probably a little surprised his mother hadn't tracked him down, too. "It's not that she doesn't want to get better. Janie's never been one of those people that sits still and everything. And the medicine …We've watched a lot of good cops go down because of drugs. Some get high from selling it, some just get high. It gets ugly fast. God, look what it did to Marino. I don't blame her for wanting to stay away from drugs altogether—prescribed or not." He tapped idly at the arm of the couch, as if to make his point. "I worry about her. I think we all do, but, you know, Janie, she's tough. I keep waiting for the part where she bounces back. Like old times."

"She is tough," Maura agreed, not wanting to tackle the discussion regarding the long recover process for bullet wounds.

Frankie nodded to her iPad. "Sorry I interrupted your weekend. I can come back later, or have Jane call me when she's awake? I was gonna try to cheer her up, ya know? I would have brought some pizza or something, but Ma warned me she's only eating soft stuff and mostly liquid. Anyway, you have plenty to do."

"No," Maura protested, waving one hand as if to dismiss the idea. "Stay. She'll want to see you. I was looking over notes the lab sent to me about a cold case I've been working. I needed a break anyway. Can't I get you something to drink?"

He flashed a small smile. "Kinda early to start offering drinks, isn't it?"

She couldn't help but return his smile, "Well there's always prune juice…"

Frankie's nose wrinkled. "Is that what they have her drinking?" he asked, head nodding in the general direction of the guest room.

"Mhmm," Maura replied, pushing to her feet and going to find a bottle of water. She offered it without comment.

He twisted off the cap and took a long drink. "She's lucky to have a good friend like you, Maura. I haven't really said it, but thanks, ya know? Not just for me, I mean, saving my life and everything. You saved her, too. She's the only big sister I got."

'I know," Maura replied gently. "I know you'd do anything for her—just the same as she did for you. It's our turn to look after her for a little bit. Even if she hates it."

Dark eyes fell on her cellphone. "Does Jane know … you know, about Ma and Pop?"

Maura's lips pressed into a thin line, and she felt tired suddenly. She let her head fall back against the cushions. "Not … exactly. She heard the two of them arguing the other night—that's when we planned for her to come visit for a long weekend. She knows it's worse than before, but she doesn't know…"

"That they're heading for Splits-ville," Frankie concluded bluntly.

The medical examiner gestured futilely. "The inevitability of it." She slipped from the couch and stalked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine, offering Frankie that or a beer. He declined both, and she settled back onto the couch after taking several long sips.

"You think it was inevitable?" he finally asked.

She shrugged. "I'm not a psychologist. I don't have background in relationship counseling. But I know that ninety percent of couples who lose a child eventually divorce. Divorce rates are nearly as high for couples who have a child who is seriously injured and requires long-term care." Her gaze lifted, a little surprised that Frankie didn't interrupt her and try to argue on behalf of his parents. "Jane's, obviously, not a child."

"Nope, but she's still their kid," Frankie mused, drinking down another long gulp of water from his bottle. "And they're pretty messed up. They can't agree on anything—where Janie should be, if I'm pushing too hard to go back to work, what they think Tommy should do when he gets out … if he gets out."

Maura offered a sympathetic look. "You know it's not really about any of you."

"Yeah," Frankie sighed. "I know. But Janie's gonna blame herself. Don't tell her, okay? Not yet."

The red head bobbed. "She doesn't need to deal with that, yet. It'll come out, later, when she's ready. She's going to try to fix it, you know."

"I know," Frankie agreed. "But let's make sure we get her fixed up first."

_Reviews are wonderful, and we all need a little more wonderfulness in our lives. We'll see what the muse inspires by way of future chapters._


	8. Chapter 8

_Some more Frankie & the girls hanging together, which is always kind of fun to write. The tissues and the hugging it out from tonight inspired me. I really do love reviews, and thank you for everyone who has been so kind, thus far, to offer them up. As always, I own none of these characters—they are property of Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro, TNT and the rest._

"Ha!" Jane exclaimed, slapping down three tiles to make B-O-L-O.

The red head was already making a noise of protest as she swallowed another mouthful of wine. "Mhmm-nhhh." She put down her goblet, finger pointing at the offending letters as if they were scuffs on her favorite pair of Pradas. "_That_ is not a word."

She scowled at her best friend. "It is, too! We use it every day."

"It's not in Webster," came the counter protest.

The detective turned to her brother in appeal. "Frankie, help me out here. Tell her!"

"It's not in Webster." Maura wasn't budging on this, and she settled back in her chair, as though to dig in for the duration.

Jane jabbed at another word, almost scattering the loose tiles. "We counted 'polyps' and 'aphasia.' You can give a little slack. It's jargon, and if we allow medical jargon, why not our jargon?" She set her jaw in protest, taking a sip of her water. Which made Jane pout all the more. Even if Frankie and Maura had offered to drink water with her, she didn't think it was fair that they have to suffer through with her. Except now she did. It totally wasn't fair. She shifted on the couch, finally swapping out a tile and settling on B-L-O-B, knowing she didn't quite manage to hide the wince from Maura.

"_Polyp_ and _aphasia_ are in the dictionary. The regular dictionary," Maura replied, her voice neutral. "We agreed no technical terms, or I would have won three rounds back with _neuropathy_, which I suspect probably can be found in a normal dictionary, but I backed down out of deference to you." She neatly set down the remainder of her tiles, spelling L-A-R-N-Y-X and taking the double word spot in the process.

Frankie shoved his little set of remaining tiles back into the slush pile and took a healthy swig of beer. "I'm out. Unless you wanna play something like poker, I'm done."

It was Jane's turn to shake her head. "Nope, she counts cards."

"I do _not_," Maura protested indignantly, pausing as she caught Jane's open-mouthed stare. "Well … I don't… intentionally. I don't even realize I'm doing it. _Sorry_, some of us are just gifted at math."

"And language," Jane grouched. "And when did you pick up the Royal _we_?"

Maura's nose wrinkled. "I used that again?"

"Yes," her friend snapped.

"Sorry," she answered meekly. "Okay, peace offering: I'll give you a sip of my wine. But you have to promise to take only a tiny sip. Enough to get the taste but not to really hit your stomach. Believe me, youdon't want it to hit your stomach. You'll be miserable."

"Fine," Jane sighed, "Truce." She accepted the goblet, taking the smallest sip and savoring the flavor and tiny burn on her tongue. Most of it dissipated in her mouth, the rest burning on the slightest bit in her throat. When she handed the goblet back, she caught Maura's anxious look. "I'm fine, Maur. I swear, I only took the littlest sip."

Frankie sighed. "You gotta come up with other game or something. Or handicap her. Only let her use two syllable words next time."

Jane shrugged. "Tried it. She beat me with one syllable words. And then once when I made that rule she could only use words that were every day objects in a common household … and she still beat me." The last words were muttered.

"No you didn't. But let's try that next time," Maura brightened. "Please? I can think of things already—ooh, _Kleenex_ and _edamame …_"

"Normal people, Maur. Things normal people use. Not weird Chinese beans." She tossed up her hands in defeat. "I wasn't gonna win tonight anyway, not still half-drugged on narcotics."

"Asian beans," her friend corrected. "They're used across Asia, and have gotten quite a following in America, too. They're extremely healthy—high in protein, omega-3 fatty acids, and micronutrients. It's an excellent source of folic acid and vitamin K—"

"You created a monster," Frankie teased, pushing to his feet and crossing to his sister. He bent down slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I gotta run, it's getting late. Some of us are on call tomorrow."

Jane wrapped arms around him, hugging as tightly as she dared to risk. "Thanks for coming over, Frankie. Watch out for yourself, okay?"

He nodded, "Just until you're back to watch out for me. Love you, Janie."

"Love you, too." She didn't push trying to get up and use that stupid cane to see him out, but she let Maura walk him to the door. As he slipped out, she gave one last wave before letting out the yawn she had been stifling. When her best friend was sitting beside her again, Jane reached over and gave Maura a small smile. "Thanks for letting him come over."

"It was a nice night," the medical examiner mused, taking Jane's lanky legs and draping them over her lap as her friend settled further into the end of the couch and stretched carefully.

Jane nodded, staring up at the painting on the wall down the hallway but not really seeing it. "Hey, um, Maur…"

It was the careful voice Jane used, when she was feeling around a topic she didn't really want to discuss in depth. Maura did her best to match the detached tone and answered with a non-commital _hmmm_?

"Pop hasn't called this weekend, has he?"

Her head tilted slightly as she considered the question. "No," she replied softly, hand wrapping around one of Jane's legs, just above the ankle in a comforting squeeze. "He's probably taken some extra jobs so he can be with you later this week."

Jane didn't answer for long moments, and when she did, dark chocolate eyes were watery as they met olive. "They're going through some pretty rough spots, huh."

"Yeah," Maura breathed, patting the calf beneath her hand in reassurance. She felt behind her, having to twist a little to pull out the elusive box of tissue before offering a few to Jane. "I'm sorry."

The detective sniffled, dabbing quickly at her eyes, although it took several moments to stem the flow. "Me, too," she sighed, breath shaky.

Maura was infinitely grateful that Jane didn't press her for more information. She knew that Angela was spending the weekend at Jane's apartment, under the guise of cleaning and organizing. Frankie had filled her in that one during the afternoon while Jane napped. The storm was brewing, and Maura had witnessed the cracks and splits too many times in her own social circle growing up to see the looming signs. She just hoped Jane was in a good place to handle it when it finally broke.

"Can I have another sip of wine? I'd kill for a beer," she sighed, gesturing down in futility. "Which is probably a good reason for me not to have a beer, besides the obvious."

She wished she could cave, but Maura knew all too well what Jane's stomach and digestive track were dealing with right now. It might taste good going down, but it wouldn't feel good past that. "Sorry, no."

Curly hair fell back against the couch cushions, and she wiped at her eyes again. "I'm too tired to push you on it." This time she didn't try to stop the tears leaking out, silent pools racing down her cheeks. "I wish he would call," she breathed, swallowing hard. She didn't have the energy to cry, so Jane embraced the comfort of the couch and Maura's warm hand that stayed steady around her legs. She wasn't really sure when she drifted off again.


End file.
